JANE WAS DRESSING FOR HER sister’s wedding, with a maid putting the last touches to her hair, when she heard the stone rattle on her window. Her brother stood in the shrubbery below. She opened the window.
“Jane, Jane!” he called, in a dramatic whisper. “I can’t bear to miss Evvy’s wedding. What will the old brute do, think you?”
“He waits only for your apology, you silly boy,” she said.
“What? He won’t thrash me, then?”
“You fool! You almost broke my mother’s heart.”
His face fell. “God, yes—Mother. It’s been simply awful, Jane. I had to work at a desk all the livelong day.”
“Go around to the front door, Jeremy. Someone is sure to see you.” She shut the window.
The colonel sat in an armchair, gazing at the fire. The same thoughts went round and round in his head. How can I take pleasure in Evvy’s wedding without that fool of a boy by my side? Ungrateful cur! At his age, did I have my hand out for money from my father? No! Did I speak to him with disrespect? No! Life’s not the same—there’s no pleasure in it without him—my heir. Poor boy, working at a desk for a barrister!—Well, he deserves worse! The wretch!
“Father!”
The colonel looked up. His son stood in the doorway.
“I’ve come to say I am very sorry, sir, for the way I addressed you.”
The colonel did not reply; his chin wobbled a little.
Jeremy advanced a few steps. “I spoke in a disrespectful manner, sir, and I hope you can forgive me.”
The colonel swallowed. “Do you own yourself to be wrong in your views?”
“I should never have spoken to you in that manner, sir, so bold and impertinent and in the presence of others. For this I beg your pardon.”
The colonel grunted. “And?”
“Well, I have much to be grateful for and I haven’t always expressed it well—or perhaps at all. I thank you, Father, for everything.”
“And?”
Jeremy paused. How quickly it might all be over if he agreed. Yet—would it be fair to Jane? He must have known his next words could throw all away. Could he risk being back at his desk, toiling dully six days a week, hoping one day to find himself on his feet in court—making speeches instead of copying them out; being quoted in the court records instead of combing through them?
He took a deep breath. “Jane has been in love now, these four years. I don’t see how she can be happy with anyone but this missionary fellow.”
He waited for the explosion of rage but it didn’t come.
Instead, his father said, “I don’t want my child marrying a man who goes among the heathens, trying to bring ’em to our ways. If he were an officer, now, or a high-ranking official, that would be different.” He slumped tiredly. “She’ll wear herself out and die of a fever. But every six months he writes me the same letter, and every six months she refuses to repudiate him. I am tired of it.”
Jeremy stared. “You mean …?”
“If she wants to be a fool, I’ll stand in her way no longer.”
Jeremy beamed. “May I see Evalina married today?”
“Not in those clothes, young sir. Go and dress yourself properly for church—your room is just as it was.”
The wedding took place in the little church at Lewton. Sir Richard was groomsman, and, in his stooped plainness, it must be said that he offered a contrast in the bridegroom’s favour. When the bride took her place by his side, Edward touched her hand and found it shaking. Evalina could not raise her eyes to his, but he knew she was happy despite her nerves, and a joyful smile lit his handsome features.
The vicar faced the congregation.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here in the sight of God …”
Laura’s own feelings were somewhat numb. She was happy for Edward, certainly, but the occasion reminded her too sharply of her recent promise, signed and sealed. All too soon, she would stand before the altar in the church at St Austell, but with what feelings?
She noticed that Mrs. Bell, seated beside her, fumbled in her reticule, bringing out a handkerchief. Laura saw the tears in Mrs. Bell’s eyes. Was the lady recalling her own marriage, celebrated quietly, perhaps, in an empty church, with bride and groom in their faded best? Laura gave herself a silent reprimand for mawkishness.
After a breakfast for the relations at Lewton Hall, the newlyweds departed, white ribbons fluttering on the carriage.
With many compliments and good wishes to her new relations, Elspeth signalled their departure. There were four ladies in the barouche, the countess and Elspeth on the forward-facing seat. There was room for one more between Mrs. Bell and Laura. The baronet gulped on imagining himself seated between those particular ladies, and climbed up onto the box instead.
“Would you wish to take the reins, Sir Richard?” said the coachman.
“Indeed I would. I haven’t driven a coach in I don’t know how long.”
Sir Richard hoisted himself up on the box beside the coachman and conveyed the ladies back to Oakmont.
Over the next two days, the mood deadened at the manor. On Sunday they dined in heavy solemnity. Even the countess could not expel the air of gloom that had settled over the household, particularly infecting the baronet and his intended.
In the drawing room, her ladyship had a quiet conversation with Mrs. Evans.
“Let us away to Clarydon, my dear.”
“There is something ill in the air here, I know. It was always the dullest place on earth.”
“I will hear no criticism of Oakmont. But my poor Ding Dong weeps into her cup of morning chocolate; I can hardly bear to look at her.”
“Can you not send her away?” Elspeth looked around to make sure she was not overheard. “I dare not risk taking my sister from this place.”
The countess laughed. “The barnonet’s neighbours all but wiped the floor with their foreheads before her at the ball.”
“Yes, but do you not see how she cringes at his slightest touch on her hand.”
“A change of scene is all she needs.”
“You think so?”
“Of course. A day or two away from him and she will set the wedding date at once.”
When the baronet joined them, Lady Clarydon invited the whole party to come with her to Clarydon Castle, where his lordship was suddenly awaiting her with impatience.
Elspeth clapped her hands. “I am sure my sister is honoured to be included in the invitation, your ladyship.” She looked significantly at Laura.
“I have heard much of the beauties of the place,” said Laura, feeling little desire to see them for herself.
“You will be drawing to your heart’s content,” said Elspeth. “There is nothing like a change of air to enthuse one to … who knows what?”
Laura did not reply.
“We will be a small party,” said the countess, “but there will be amusement enough.”
“It is not often that the baronet can be lured from home,” said Elspeth.
“I shall be very honoured to accept the invitation,” Sir Richard said, surprising himself and the ladies.
“Then all are agreed,” said the countess.
“We ought to farewell the Woodruff family before we go,” said Laura.
Mrs. Evans blew her a little kiss. “You go to them, my love. I shall write them such a letter as they will think a visit superfluous,” she said.
At Lewton Hall, Laura found the household in feverish preparations for departure. The mysteries of the letter from India, and Mr. Woodruff’s brief banishment were revealed. A new Jane Woodruff greeted Laura: her face was lit up with joy. Her every movement, graceful as ever, was alight with a youthful optimism that had seemed lost.
“I have at last what I have prayed for!” she said. “I would have liked to tell you of my attachment before but all such confidence was impossible, with my father’s opposition.”
“I would not expect to hear of a matter so private.” Laura smiled. “I cannot pretend to having had no curiosity at all.”
Jane laughed. “I never thought to see Jeremy defy my father—and on my account.”
“You will not be here when I return—in three or four months.” This was the closest reference she had yet made to her own marriage.
“I leave in two weeks, as a lady of my mother’s acquaintance is rejoining her husband in Calcutta and will be able to chaperone me on the voyage.”
“So soon?” How Laura had relied upon Miss Woodruff’s friendship! “When will you return?”
“Mr. Preston has no expectation of returning for at least six years. We will then go to the north, to the parish held for him there.”
“Oh.” Laura felt a soft, dark sadness settle upon her. “I will miss you,” she said.
“I think you will find pleasures to fill your days very well but I will miss your society.”
“One cannot have everything,” said Laura.
“That would not be good for us. Yet to have the love of an excellent man must compensate us for the little losses.”
“How true,” said Laura.